Yore
by Anansay
Summary: [GSR] - A peak into Grissom's possible thoughts after Sara leaves the room.


**TITLE: **Days of Yore  
**Author: **Anansay  
**Summary: **A peak into Grissom's possible thoughts after Sara leaves the room.   
**Spoiler:** Just after the "pin me down" scene of Invisible Evidence.   
**Rating: **PG  
**Disclaimer: **don't own... just borrowed... and all that... 

**Author's Notes: **I wrote this on a whim. At first, when I saw that pictures of that part in Invisible Evidence, I was enthused at some sort of RST beginning to happen. And then when I saw the clip I felt differently. It wasn't what I'd thought. Not at all. It hurt afterward. I hurt afterward. I felt for Sara and her frustration. I felt angry at Grissom, and at TPTB. And now I'm just sad... 

~*~

**Yore**

_by Anansay  
October 17, 2003_

Sometimes she wonders why she even tries at all. For when she does, he merely stares at her, face without expression, eyes cold and distant. She mutters a few words, some form of apology or other before slinking out through the door like a chastised dog, tail between the legs. 

She leans against her locker, eyes closed against the stabbing pain in her chest. There is nothing any doctor can do about this pain. It isn't physical. She's been in the ring for too long, punched down, slapped around, taunted with fake blows. 

She opens her eyes and raises them to the ceiling, seeking some solace from the ceiling tiles and the universe beyond. A single tear escapes and rolls down her cheek. Her shoulders rise and fall with a shuddering breath. Nails dig into palms as hands close tightly around anything that might hold her steady, keep her from falling. 

When her head clears and her throat loosens, when her chest releases its hold and she can breathe again, she pushes herself from her locker and sits down on the bench. She knows anyone can just walk in at any moment. She prays that the gods will see fit to allow her to preserve what tattered shred of dignity she has left. 

~*~

Grissom watches her leaves. His mind is swimming with too many thoughts, too many images and too many feelings. He knows something just happened, but he doesn't know exactly what. She'd asked if whatever it was between them would affect his decision regarding her and the key position. And he had to think. He had to think about her terminology, the way she'd said "whatever happened, or didn't happen between us, won't be a factor" And it occurred to him that she'd spoken in the past tense. And only in the past tense. 

Standing so close to her  
_Pin me down_  
had affected him more than he thought it would. His mind was still trying to find solid ground so his heart could stop the manic beating in his chest. 

__

I wanted to talk to you about something. 

He'd thought yeah, he'd thought she might bring it up again. And even though a part of him was screaming at her to just drop it, another more quiet part was pushing hard for her to, yes, bring it up again. He wanted a second chance. He wanted to say yes. 

But it was something about her job. And them. But not a them' that he'd wanted to hear. Past tense. _Happened. _Not now. Not in the future. Past tense. Yesterday. Yesteryear. Days of yore. Gone. 

__

I always seem to overtalk around you. 

He'd thought that an odd thing for her to say. As a woman she certainly didn't qualify for the "yapper" category that most women did. For sure, she did not. It had always been her quiet, no-nonsense attitude that he'd liked. No flimsy, mindless conversation could ever come out of her mouth, he was sure. No, she didn't overtalk. 

If anything, he undertalked. But only because she'd say things that required him to think before answering. 

__

Do you wanna sleep with me? 

How was he supposed to answer that?

__

Do you wanna have dinner with me? 

At that time he thought she was just hedging his reprimand. And then she'd pushed it and he realized she was serious. She'd done what he'd so wanted to do and he had panicked. 

__

No. 

I don't know what to do about this. 

And he still doesn't. 

The only thought paramount in his mind at this time is the overwhelming feeling of being lost. Lost in a world that seemed to have suddenly, and without warning, shifted beneath him. Nothing overtly had changed, but it was there all the same. That feeling that he is on the boundary of something that he ought to know, but which eludes him. He fights to see, to hear, to feel anything. But there is always something blocking him. 

Tonight as well, he'd felt it. 

__

it might be too late whatever ever happened or didn't happen 

And he has the oddest notion that maybe he's waited too long. 

~*~

Copyright © 2003 Anansay


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